


Sit in the Window and Look At the Stars

by aitomation



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: (the kaiju war), Autistic Hermann, Autistic Hermann Gottlieb, Birthday Presents, Buying a HOUSE, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deutsch | German, Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Healthy Relationships, Healthy Sibling Relationships, Hermann Gottlieb Has MS, Hurt/Comfort, Letters Era Newmann, M/M, Mentions of Shitty Teachers, Mentions of War, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oversized stuffed animals, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Sickfic, Surprises, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Character, Trans Hermann Gottlieb, Trans Male Character, Trans Newton Geiszler, also briefly - Freeform, briefly, hermanns one (1) happy memory of his father, i think thats it idk, its not rly mentioned but theyre still trans so, mentions of the gottlieb/geiszler lecture tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 08:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17618753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aitomation/pseuds/aitomation
Summary: What is a life, but a series of snapshots woven together in memory? The universe and the ocean are one and the same, and each speck of dust is lifetimes and legions, simultaneously momentous and inconsequential.A series of Hermann's memories involving window seats.





	Sit in the Window and Look At the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> this is dedicated to kate, whose talking abt cloudy weather the other day inspired me to finish this fic that's been in my drafts forever,,,, also to wen n aj, whose enthusiasm made me feel all kinds of warm fuzzies,,,,, enjoy

Hermann settled himself in the nest he had made on the window seat. It was raining gently, a thin fog creeping across the countryside. He pulled his mother’s quilt tighter around himself to fight the slight chill that ran through him. He shifted gently and sunk further into the pillows piled at his back. He closed his eyes and leaned against the thick glass to listen.

He had woken early, but couldn’t remember anything beyond a general feeling of unease. A twinge in his knee set him rolling uncomfortably in his sheets for another half hour, before he started to see the first signs of morning light. _Growing pains,_ the doctor had said. _They’ll pass with time._ Hermann scoffed quietly as he finally pushed himself upright. He didn’t move for a bit, just breathed deeply, looking out the window at nothing in particular. A loud but distant creak from somewhere in the house jerked him back to the present. He set about hauling himself to his feet-first swinging his legs over the side one at a time, then leaning most of his weight on the bedpost and using his arms to pull himself up. He stood facing the window, looking out at the countryside. He blinked at the rolling field he knew was dotted with the first flowers of spring; at the old, tall trees drearily drooping toward the earth. He could barely make out their outlines in the dark. A smile barely twitched at the corners of his lips.

When Karla came to wake him she found him dozing lightly in the window seat, wrapped tightly in the quilt. His face was smooshed against the windowpane. She breathed a laugh and crossed the room to gently touch his shoulder.

“Guten morgen bruder,” she whispered, trying to smooth his hair into place. He woke slowly, blinking heavily. The twinge in his knee was only a dull ache now. He smiled up at his sister and let her help him onto his feet. He yelped when his bare feet hit the cold wood. He grinned sheepishly at Karla and she led him out into the hall with a chuckle.

“Pfannkuchen essen?” She asked.

“Bitte,” Hermann answered quietly, looking down and smiling wide. It was going to be a good day, he could tell.

 

Hermann huffed in annoyance. His train was late-he wouldn’t make it to class on time. And he had so wanted to make a good impression on the professor. The man was acquainted with several of Hermann’s father’s colleagues, and he vocally opposed Hermann attending University so young. Hermann had hoped to change his opinion by appearing a model student-namely by being on time; he didn’t doubt his ability to complete the coursework.

He flexed his stiff fingers around the handle of his umbrella. The rain was falling steadily now, and Hermann could already feel the ache in his bones. His hip twinged. Cars sped by and splashed drops of mud on his shoes and trousers. Hermann suddenly wanted nothing more than to be home-not back in his dormitory; but at his home in the country, sipping his mother’s tea in the big armchair next to the front room fireplace, the one that smelled of smoke and thyme.

When the bus pulled up to the stop Hermann sighed. He climbed the steps and wrestled with his umbrella, accidentally dumping water droplets down his front when it finally snapped shut. He paid his fare and slumped into the empty seat behind the driver. As the bus trundled away from the stop Hermann pressed his forehead into the plastic wall separating him from the driver and closed his eyes.

The whole trip to the university, he counted. He counted his breaths, and recited his tables, and did mental calculations. And when they arrived at his stop and he had to drag himself back out into the rain, Hermann still didn’t feel better.

He forced himself to continue on-he had already made it this far. Taking a deep breath, he trudged up the front stairs of the building. When he got inside, he could feel himself start to sweat as he struggled to close his umbrella again. He shook it out as best he could over the mat, and stumbled into a shelf when someone brushed past him.

The receptionist was eyeing him critically. Hermann desperately hoped she wouldn’t try to talk to him. He hadn’t meant to block the door. He quickly walked down the next hallway, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the elevator. When he reached out to press the call button, he noticed his hands were shaking.

The ride in the elevator-while only two floors-made Hermann feel light-headed. He stumbled slightly over the threshold when the doors opened on his floor. He looked blearily around the floor for his classroom. After wandering around the floor for another ten minutes, Hermann found himself looking up at a hastily written class cancellation form taped to the door.

Hermann felt like he might cry. He wouldn’t-because Gottlieb men didn’t cry-but everything that day had just been so much. The pressure behind his eyes was building, and his joints hurt, and he was just so uncomfortable, and he still had to make it back to his dormitory. He thought about calling his father, but the closest phone was on the ground floor and he didn’t know if he could handle the elevator again. He was starting to feel nauseous.

Glumly working his way toward the stairwell, Hermann paused when he passed a huge window with a wide ledge. It overlooked the back courtyard, and all the buildings beyond. Everything looked gloomy, bathed in grey and dripping with wet. Without thinking, Hermann climbed up on the sill. He wedged his bag behind himself and let his umbrella drop to the floor. Sitting down made the nausea subside, if only a little.

He curled up as best he could and pressed his heated face into the cool glass. He watched the fog on the glass form and dissipate around his skin. The rain beat steadily against the windowpane. He would just rest a moment, just until he had the strength to get back. He closed his eyes and listened to the rain.

Hermann woke in his dorm room. He felt hot and clammy, and his sheets clung to him uncomfortably. When he mustered the strength to sit up, he saw his father sitting in the chair to his desk, reading. Hermann flushed miserably, and then swayed when his head spun. His father looked up at the movement, and carefully marked his place and set the book on the desk. He rose and crossed the room in two quick strides. Hermann stared down at his sheets, repeatedly balling the fabric in his fists and releasing it.

“I didn’t mean to,” he croaked. His throat felt rough and dry, and he pressed a hand to it when he swallowed. Lars handed him a glass of water from the nightstand and watched him take a few measured sips. When Hermann finished, Lars put the glass back and eyed him carefully.

“You are very ill,” he said simply. “It can’t be helped.” Hermann looked up at him, startled, and moaned when the action made his stomach turn. Lars placed a warm hand on his shoulder and helped him lay back down. He grabbed a wet washcloth from a bucket he had next to the bed and dabbed Hermann’s face with it. Hermann sighed at the sensation, closing his heavy eyelids. “Sleep now,” Lars said, in a gentle voice Hermann had never heard.

Hermann flushed every time he had to pass the window seat after that.

 

Hermann popped open his mailbox and silently thrilled when he saw a thick letter envelope mixed with his usual ads and bills. He awkwardly scrambled up the apartment stairs, laden as he was with his bags, cane, and takeout, and fumbled with his keys in his excitement. When he practically fell into his unit, he abandoned his things on the coffee table and set about making tea.

He wondered what Newton had written. If he had sent anything with his letter this time. Last time he had received a letter from Newton there was a bent Polaroid shoved into the bottom of the envelope-it was an, admittedly poor, snapshot of Newton singing with his band at an open mic night in Brookline; at least according to Newton’s scribbles on the back of the photo. Hermann treasured it.

After he put the kettle on, he set about righting things so he could properly enjoy Newton’s letter. He hung his coat, and put his bags in their rightful place next to his desk, and finally took off his shoes and left them by the door. When the kettle hissed, Hermann made himself a cup and wandered into his bedroom.

The sun was pouring warmth into the small room, its light squeezing through the cheap blinds and creating shapes on the carpet. Hermann grabbed his tea and delicately arranged himself in the window seat. Every time he got a letter from Newton, he opened it here-sometimes wrapped in blankets or a cardigan, sometimes with a candle burning. He liked to look out over the city while he read them. Somehow it made him feel closer to Newton, to be able to look out into the world where he knew Newton was living his life. Perhaps that was foolish of him, but he didn’t care. Newton made him feel foolish, in a good way.

Hermann didn’t even bother to use a letter opener. He always closed his letters with a seal-if not a wax one, then one of those stickers embossed with his initials-but Newton almost always sealed the envelopes with saliva and hope. Occasionally he would use a fun shaped sticker. This letter was sealed with a piece of clear tape that had a smudge of pen across it. Hermann grinned and opened the letter.

 

Karla had a window seat. It hadn’t been there when she had bought the house, but her wife had insisted they have one installed. Hermann silently thanked her as he settled on the cushioned ledge with a mug of tea. He didn’t have the energy to feel guilty, as he usually did whenever he relaxed for more than a moment. The war raged on around him, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t around to see the end of it. A moment of peace stolen while he waited for his shuttle to the airport wouldn’t harm anyone. Even if it did, what did he care? He was working tirelessly to perfect his breach formula-he was doing his best to help “save the world,” as Newton would say, and the government still took away more funding every time they met. Soon there wouldn’t be anyone left in their department besides Newton and himself, he was sure of it. What reason was there to stay?

Hermann sighed. He knew why he was staying; why he would stay to the bitter end. He looked out the window, at the city being silhouetted by the setting sun. He watched a bird soar overhead and disappear over the house. If he listened closely, he could almost hear the thrum of the numerical heartbeat under everything. He sighed again. His shuttle would arrive soon, and he’d have to go back to the Shatterdome-back to his work, and all that entailed, and back to Newton, who had stayed behind to work on his new samples from Manila.

Karla gave him a long, lingering hug at the door. She made him promise to get in touch, even though she knew he wouldn’t have the time. She made him promise to take care of himself, even though she knew he couldn’t. He let her kiss the top of his head, and smooth his hair, and straighten his lapels. And as the shuttle drove away, he could see her sink into the window seat, head in her hands. Hermann took a deep breath, and looked forward.

 

The bed and breakfast had a bay window in the sitting room. The PPDC had set them-them, because he and Newton were inseparable, recently but they had always been a package deal hadn’t they?-up in the quaint converted house shortly after they told them to vacate the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Their things had been sent to several different addresses, and while they were wrangling them, they were corresponding with dozens of universities to organize a series of lectures regarding their research, and their participation in the closing of the breach. Their room was stuffed to the brim with old research papers and all the things they had stored in their rooms at the Shatterdome. It was all very chaotic and disorganized and incredibly stressful.

Hermann stumbled a bit as he descended the stairs. His socks barely protected his feet from the chill of the hardwood floor. He squinted in the dark of the foyer and wandered blindly into the sitting room. The antique clock in the corner said it was just past two in the morning. He meant to sit on one of the couches, but he felt himself walking toward the window. The curtains were shut, so Hermann tied them back and let moonlight spill into the room.

He caught sight of himself in an antique mirror and let out a breathy laugh. He had somehow ended up in one of Newton’s printed T-shirts along with his usual pajama pants and socks. The patterns clashed horribly. His heart swelled, and he suspected it was from the little bit of Newton now stored safely away in his brain, but he wouldn’t discount his own romanticism. It was easier, now, to let himself enjoy silly things-to care about things.

Hermann levered himself up into the little alcove with his cane. He shifted around for a minute or two, trying to get comfortable on the old cushion, and then looked out at the sky. They weren’t out in the country per se, but they were far enough from the city that Hermann could clearly see the stars. He had missed looking at the stars. There were so many lights, so much brightness in Hong Kong, at their Shatterdome.

He felt Newton behind him before he even made it down the stairs. He didn’t turn to look at him, because he knew Newton could feel his happiness, and his lack of surprise. He didn’t startle when Newton draped his arms over Hermann’s shoulders and leaned his head on top of Hermann’s either.

“Hello Newt,” Hermann said quietly.

“Hey,” Newt whispered. They sat in silence for awhile, just looking out at the stars. Newt’s eyelids starting drooping first-he had only woken because he could feel that Hermann was gone. “Are you gonna sit here much longer?” he asked. “I know your ass hurts.” Hermann chuckled.

“Why would I want to stay down here when I have such a nice warm bed to go back to?” Newt hummed, smiling, and helped Hermann pull himself up. They wandered slowly back up the stairs, leaning on each other companionably.

 

Hermann giggled-he couldn’t help himself. Newton had covered the hotel’s bed in comically large stuffed animals. There was confetti all over the floor, and balloons floating pathetically at about waist height. A hastily-made banner was draped across the television stand- _Happy Birthday Hermann!_ written in Newton’s unmistakable scrawl, surrounded by little cartoon doodles of lizards and planets. He calmly walked into the room and made a big show of surveying every decoration with false derision. Newton fell into the room behind him, scrambling to explain. On his third failed explanation, Hermann cracked and smiled wide, in that way that transformed his entire face. Newt flushed.

“It’s your birthday. You deserve to celebrate, even if we are on the road.”

“It’s lovely, darling,” Hermann said. “Thank you.” He pulled Newt close and gave him a slow, deliberate kiss. He could feel Newt smiling goofily against his mouth.

“There’s a little bit more,” Newt said, making a shrinking motion with his hand. He went over to the closet and wrestled with the door for a moment, making Hermann laugh again.

“Do you need help darling?”

“Are you crazy?” Newt grunted. “You can’t help me get _your_ birthday present, that’s against the rules or something.” The door flew open, making Newt stumble back a bit.

“Well, you clearly are the expert on that subject,” Hermann said, smiling.

“Cover your eyes,” Newt ordered, making a very serious face. Hermann playfully rolled his eyes, but covered them with both hands anyway. He closed them too, for good measure. He could hear Newt struggling with something across the room, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing again. “Okay, you can open them.” When Hermann uncovered his eyes, he saw a _huge_ teddy bear, larger than Newt, with words embroidered across its tummy. Words that Hermann recognized, in the same script as the birthday sign.

“Oh Newton,” he breathed.

“I figured, uh, the letters meant as much to you as they did to me, so…” Newt said, awkwardly trailing off as he dragged the bear across the room and propped it in the window seat. Hermann stared after him, his mouth slightly open. Newt fidgeted uncomfortably. “Do you like it?”

“Newt, I love it,” Hermann said matter-of-factly. Just to prove it, he crossed the room and climbed into the window seat with the bear. It was a tight fit, but Hermann loved it. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling, even when his cheeks started to hurt. Newt smiled too, and excitedly crammed himself into the remaining space in the seat. His face was pressed so close to Hermann’s that Hermann could feel his flush.

“You really like it?” he asked quietly.

“I do,” Hermann replied, just as quiet. He let Newt wrap him in his strong arms and breathed deep. He relaxed against his lab partner, friend, and love. Hermann fell asleep sandwiched between Newton and the stuffed bear, pressed against Newton’s signature on the bear’s tummy. Newt hummed quietly and watched the sky change outside the window, gently running his hands up Hermann’s back.

 

Hermann was sick of looking at houses. This was the third day that he and Newton had spent walking all over Boston looking at listings. Their realtor was trying much too hard, in Hermann’s opinion, to be chipper. He also kept showing them listings that didn’t come close to meeting their expectations. Wasn’t that the purpose of the consultation? And the questionnaire? His whole body ached.

Newt could sense Hermann’s exhaustion and was trying valiantly to move their realtor along. Hermann wandered into a room they hadn’t been in before, one he didn’t recognize from the photos, just so he could get away from the constant chatter. It was a nice house-hardwood floors with area rugs, crown molding, spacious kitchen with linoleum island. It had the large bathtub Hermann had requested, and the yard and basement space that Newton wanted.

This room looked to be a secondary parlor of sorts, connected to the dining room and kitchen. It was furnished-not as expensive as Hermann had feared, though that hardly mattered to them anymore-with oak. He passed a low table, shining in the light from the window. The bay window, which Hermann hadn’t noticed, sat overlooking the backyard. The way the yard slanted, Hermann could see the ocean.

When Newt found Hermann, he was sitting in the window seat, facing the room. He had a pensive look on his face, leaning against his cane.

“I like this one Newton,” he announced, not even looking up.

“You mean you like the window seat,” Newt laughed, coming to stand between Hermann’s legs.

“That too,” Hermann mumbled, turning to stare wistfully at the sea. The waves lapped gently at the shore, the sun hidden behind clouds so its light didn’t reflect off the water’s surface and hurt his eyes. He startled when he felt Newt’s hand on his face. He looked up at his husband quizzically.

“You’re crying,” Newt whispered. He held his fingers in the light and Hermann could see the wetness on them.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Hermann admitted truthfully. Newt wrapped him in a hug-the kind where he pressed Hermann’s head into his chest and wrapped his strong arms around Hermann’s whole upper body; the kind that blocked out the light and sound and surrounded Hermann with just the right amount of comforting pressure. Hermann balled his fists in the back of Newt’s shirt and breathed him in.

“I feel safe,” he murmured, just loud enough for Newt to hear. He didn’t have better words to explain how he was feeling.

“I know.” Hermann puffed out a laugh.

“You do, don’t you?” Their realtor came around the corner then, loudly asking how they felt about the house. He cut himself off when he saw them.

“I’m not interrupting a moment am I?” Newt laughed.

“A little bit, but it’s all good. This is the one.” He smiled down at Hermann. “We’re sure of it.”

 

Hermann flinched when a drop of rain hit his forehead. He sighed up at the dark sky before rummaging through his bag for his compact umbrella. At least the rain had held off this long. He was finally almost home.

He approached the house at a brisk walk, his cane flicking water across the pavement. He could see the lights on in the front room and he hoped Newton hadn’t waited for him too long. Their schedules had been conflicting recently, as Hermann had started work on a collaborative publication, in addition to his teaching, and Newton had been working early shifts at their local aquarium on top of mentoring several graduate students. Hermann would get stuck working late with his collaborators, and Newt had to wake early to feed the fish-and various other creatures he was so fond of-and set up the touch tanks, before darting all over the city to meet with his students. Hermann worried about him, losing sleep so they could have a few extra moments together, even if he treasured those moments as much as Newton did.

He opened the door as quietly as he could manage; put his keys and bag on the table, hung his coat and took off his shoes. When he turned into the sitting room, their cat Godzilla brushed against his leg, purring happily. Hermann leaned down to give her a little scratch on the head, and when he righted himself he caught sight of Newton.

Newt was curled up on the wide sill of the front window, asleep with his face pressed awkwardly against the glass. Hermann smiled to himself. He quietly crossed the room to place a gentle kiss on Newt’s forehead.

“Hello, darling,” he whispered. Newt blinked awake slowly, Hermann petting his hair.

“Hey,” he croaked, voice heavy with sleep. “You’re back.”

“I am,” Hermann said. “What are you doing up there?” Newt stretched a little, righting his glasses on his face. He rubbed at the red mark on his cheek from where his skin had been stuck to the glass. Hermann chuckled quietly.

“Was waiting for you,” Newt mumbled. “Thought I heard you coming.”

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.” Newt shook his head, smiling sweetly. He looked up at Hermann through lidded eyes and reached up to take his left hand. He brushed his thumb along Hermann’s ring absentmindedly. Hermann smiled. “Would you like to come up to bed darling?” he asked. Newt looked contemplative for a moment, before he suddenly tugged Hermann’s hand and sent him tumbling into the seat next to Newt. Hermann puffed out a breath in mock irritation. “You cheeky thing,” he murmured into Newt’s hair, giving the top of his head a little kiss.

“Sit with me,” Newt said tiredly. Hermann smiled again, and arranged himself the best he could. He wrapped an arm around Newt and let him snuggle against his side. In a moment, he would make Newt get up and they would go upstairs to their bed for a good night’s sleep. But for now, he was content to sit in the window, with his husband cuddled up next to him, looking up at the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me for any typos or editing errors lmao,,,, its late n im soft


End file.
